


A Constellation of Tears

by norcumi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dissociation, Explicit Sexual Content, GFY, M/M, Mind Control, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Slavery, Torture, Whump, so to speak, the zygerria episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: The Zygerrians figured the best way to break a man like Obi-Wan Kenobi was to punish others in his stead. While they underestimate how much that man already blames himself for everything, he doesn't realize all the logical consequences of this.





	1. Going Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



> While prowling through the Rex/Obi tag, I stumbled over several of thedevilchicken's stories for fic exchanges. I ended up perusing their exchange letters because I get easily lost on the internet, and something about their comments regarding the Zygerria arc instigated a plunnie. 
> 
> So, er, I hope you enjoy some random fic from some stranger on the internet. ^_^;
> 
> * * *
> 
> A huge tip of the hat to the Tumblr crew, who've been incredibly supportive.
> 
> Endless thanks to: MoreCivilizedAge who beta’d; ThisPencilBrokeMyPaper and Jahaliel who provided reassurance when it was desperately needed; Saereneth who directed me to @[scripttorture](https://scripttorture.tumblr.com/) which was an _amazing_ resource; and of course Dogmatix for some twists that would never have occurred to me and putting up with my endless whinging.  <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: on-screen torture this chapter

The first day at the Zygerrian reeducation facility was a nightmare. Hard labor in a foundry, shoveling and carting around raw material to be processed, treated like droids – like machinery –

Worse, was watching the people around him falter and fall from the unbearable heat, the unending labor, the unforgiving taskmasters.

Worst of all, Obi-Wan saw others suffer for him. It went against everything he had ever learned – every frustrating, painful experience that had taught him that while he might work towards harmony and Light in the universe, he was meant for nothing but sorrow.

_His_ life was full of Darkness, and he knew it, had seen visions of it early on. It was a burden he’d been willing to accept, because it meant he could keep others safe from such. 

Now his very existence seemed to bring suffering to those around him, and he could do _nothing_ – even if he acted to their benefit, they would only suffer instead. 

The second day was worse in different ways. He was already stiff and sore from the beatings, near drowning in the miasma of despair in the Force, and lightheaded from the lack of calories (he could not bring himself to call it food). Normally he could compensate for deprivation via the Force, but he couldn’t concentrate long or well enough in this environment.

The group of slaves containing Obi-Wan and Rex were taken down, a hover-platform descending deep, deep into the pit under the facility. It was jarring, going from the sullen red light of the foundry, to the stark blinding brightness of the day, to rock caverns lit only by the hover emitters of the carts they had to push ahead of them. 

On one level, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but consider it horribly inefficient: unpowered hand-tools wielded by beings who had no experience, no training, and often no conditioning for this kind of work. Of course, the entire point was a very different kind of conditioning. 

Three more slaves died that day, bodies unceremoniously tossed into the nearest cart of rock regardless of how full or empty it might be. When they were allowed to finally stop, the slaves were herded into a dead end tunnel closer to the surface than where they’d been working. Bowls were tossed to the ground, containing scraps of things he was thankful he couldn’t identify in the piss-poor light that might have once been emergency lighting strips repurposed from a starcraft. 

Obi-Wan dutifully took his portion, beyond grateful that Rex sat near him, their backs towards each other in a way that looked like hostile sullenness, not protective wariness. He hunched over his...scraps, trying not to be grateful for the meager energy they promised. 

“Long day,” he murmured, covering the movements by pretending to nibble.

“Not a full ten hours,” Rex murmured back, shifting a little. The movement out of the corner of his eye was disconcerting, because he kept expecting the white or blue of Rex’s armor, not the gold and brown of his guard disguise. Yes, Rex had looked quite striking in the getup, but it was still unexpected. 

The crack of whips and that horrible seizing pain from the slave collars proved that they hadn’t been subtle enough, and they ended up on opposite sides of the room, not wishing to dare the Zygerrians’ wrath again so soon. 

The third day started off as promising. Obi-Wan felt he understood things well enough that he could try to do some good instead of standing by helpless. He had nothing useful for escape, but the small – petty, to be honest – joy of defying the slavers by lessening the load of others was a victory nonetheless. He kept it subtle, appreciating how Rex picked up on it enough that he was often between Obi-Wan and the local enforcer. None of the Togruta noticed or commented, so he considered the defiance successful. 

The exhausted slog back to their dead-end holding area began a whole new nightmare. They stopped in a large open area instead of being herded back into their holding tunnel, the guards snarling demands for them to line up. When everyone was in several approximate rows, the guards shoved a handful of them up front – Rex included. 

The day’s overseer gave them a long, disdainful look before padding over to Obi-Wan. “Jedi,” the Zygerrian sneered. “I was told you were a special case, but so far I have seen nothing of interest to you.” He motioned to an underling, who pushed one of the slaves up front to their knees. “You think you are clever, you think you are sneaky.” He grabbed Obi-Wan by the tunics, hauling him around so that he stood before everyone. 

The worst part was that much as he wanted to, he did not even struggle. The Zygerrian kept holding him aloft as he pointed to the kneeling slave. “You thought you could _assist_ this slave. Remind me: what _did_ you do?” 

There was no guidance from the Force; all outcomes were unfortunate. So of course he lied. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Not good. That earned him a thin-lipped smile. “Lies,” the overseer hissed. At the declaration, one of the guards stepped forward, jabbing their electrostaff at Rex. Obi-Wan jerked the same time he did, but managed to bite back a cry of protest at the way the electricity ripped a scream from him. 

Somehow, Rex staggered but did not fall. He kept his feet, swaying and glaring murder even though that earned him a cuff from the nearest Zygerrian. 

The overseer shook Obi-Wan, recapturing his attention. “Try again, skug. What did you do for this one?” 

Hating every syllable out of his mouth, Obi-Wan said, “I assisted with three loads.” 

“As I thought.” He shoved Obi-Wan back, letting go to thrust a whip towards him. “One lash for each.” 

He allowed himself a breath, then began to turn.

The overseer’s laugh was chilling. “No, _Jedi_. You lash _him_. One for each time you ‘aided’ him. If you try to go easy then you will keep going until you do it right.” 

Obi-wan looked over the group up front, his heart sinking as it registered that he had helped all of them. Failed. Not as subtle as he’d hoped, then. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to release despair to the Force. 

It remained as he stepped forward. Flicked the whip, landing the lash away from the joints. Through the screaming. Through that horrible pause while the charge to the whip wore off, so there would be no electrified jerking that would take his aim anywhere but the target he chose. He could do so little, but at least he could do his best to keep them from lasting injury. 

That was less than no solace. 

Numbness had settled in – not peace, but distance that helped a little – as the guards hauled the slave away and shoved the next to their knees. The overseer wanted to know his crimes, and at least this had been only once. 

More confessions. More blows. More screaming. 

The pretext of peace fled when it registered that the being pleading for mercy was the Togruta elder who had summoned the army to Kiros in the first place. Obi-Wan finally faltered as the world snapped into focus, sharper than it should have been. He stared, both grateful that the elder was ignoring him to plead with the overseer, and loathing himself because his place as a tool was that obvious to all. 

“Too slow!” the overseer yelled, gesturing to the guards. Two of them jabbed electrostaffs at Rex this time. The punishment was shorter, but still brutal, leaving Rex dropping to his knees as the screaming gave way to ragged, pained gasps and retching. 

Obi-Wan must have looked too blatantly tempted to use the whip on the guards, because one snarled at him before applying the electrostaff to Rex again. Obi-Wan turned away, wondering if any of it was worthwhile, or if he should have already tried to fight back. 

The next two rounds of punishment were a blur, sharpening back into hyperfocus when he realized that only Rex was left. 

“Fraternization,” the overseer growled. “ _Talking_. And assisting this one.” He gave them both a considering, narrow-eyed look, then bared his fangs in something that could never be a smile. “Let’s see how he takes twenty.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop a convulsive grip on the whip’s haft. That was – no. 

The overseer showed more fang. “Twenty-one! Every delay just makes it worse for him, _Jedi_.” 

The roaring in his ears couldn’t be his heart, but there was no other explanation for the thunder he could barely think past. He glared at the Zygerrian, wondering distantly if he was in fact hovering on the verge of Falling to the Dark side or if that was just as much part of this nightmare as anything else. 

“General,” a hoarse voice called, cutting through both the standoff and the pounding in his ears. Obi-Wan jerked as he looked over at Rex. The clone was still on his knees, but there was a defiant expression on his face as he met Obi-Wan’s eyes. He looked terrible, from the unkempt stubble to the dark blood dripping from his nose, but there was still that refusal to break written in every line. 

“Sir,” Rex declared, then bowed his head.

That unbearable tightness in his chest had to be heart-break. 

“Hah! This one knows business as usual for the Jedi and their slaves. Twenty-two! Get on with it, skug!”

Obi-Wan didn’t allow himself the luxury of a bracing breath this time, not when he knew any hesitation would lead to him breaking. He couldn’t. Not now. Not if there was to be any hope for escape or rescue. If he delayed too long, or broke too far, then Rex’s life, along with every other poor bastard trapped in this facility could be forfeit. 

He tried to focus his awareness of the Force on Rex’s determination, the feel of certainty and a free-ranging, burning fury that Obi-Wan could not permit himself to feel. Those emotions only sharpened as the first blow landed. As Rex pushed himself back up from the ground for another blow. 

Another. 

It burned, how Obi-Wan could tell not a shred of anger was directed at him. It wasn’t _right_ , not that any of this was right, but somehow this only made it so many times worse. 

He hadn’t made it to ten when a growing wrongness in the Force flared, and Captain Rex collapsed from the lash. He was still breathing, the harsh rapid sobs for air, but his mind was curiously quiet, with only a faint murmur of... _something_ that wasn’t quite unconsciousness. 

“Pathetic,” the overseer sneered. “Looks like we have to finish tomorrow.” He snatched the whip back out of Obi-Wan’s hands, shoving him towards Rex. “Drag that one out, but do not assist him or we’ll do this all over again now.”

He tried so hard to be careful hauling Rex up, slavers be damned. It was almost a relief to find that Rex wasn’t unconscious, but the way his eyes were glazed and distant was no comfort. His lips were moving, voice a faint thread of sound Obi-Wan needed the Force to properly hear.

“Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders.” The mantra was whispered over and over again, as if it were the only thing keeping him from screaming unconsciousness, and Obi-Wan tried not to show how much it made him ache.

This whole mission had asked too much of all of them, and was full of orders Rex should never have had to follow. Hells, the whole damn war was full of that kind of shit, but that never made it right.

Every step towards the little cul-de-sac was further torture, Rex’s mindless whispers a reminder that they both had their jobs to do. Fighting back when they were this helplessly outnumbered would only get more innocents dead.

He’d gone quiet by the time Obi-Wan gently set him down. With luck, he’d actually blacked out. Rather than risk the guards thinking he was doing something to ease him, he sat on the opposite side of the room.

Every being worked very hard to stay far, far away from him and Rex.


	2. Eclipse

Obi-Wan managed a few hours of something that was not sleep, nor meditation, and most certainly not restful. The fog of despair and pain and coiling hate swirled around the holding area, until sometime into what he wanted to think of as night. There was suddenly a pool of serenity in the midst of all the Dark emotions, a bubble of peace and single-mindedness rising up that snapped Obi-Wan to full wakefulness even as the Force rippled with danger.

Across the room, Rex was shoving himself to his feet, moving in a particularly smooth way that set Obi-Wan’s hackles up. Nevermind the feeling of danger pounding through the room, that kind of serenity coming from Captain Rex was several kinds of _wrong_.

Obi-Wan was on his feet too by the time Rex looked up. His expression was still dazed and distant, but _something_ snapped into place the moment he locked eyes with Obi-Wan. The clone bared his teeth, snarling “ _Jedi!_ ” like it was a curse before lunging right for him. “ _Traitor!_ ” 

For a moment, he did in fact freeze. There were possibilities, like somehow Rex was executing some kind of wild escape plan, but – No, he wouldn’t risk that, which meant that whatever this madness was, it was _real_.

Obi-Wan shook off his paralysis in time to leap and somersault forward, managing a classic Ataru vault over his opponent's head and only scraping lightly against the rough ceiling. The instant his feet were on solid ground he took off, tapping into the Force not just for speed, but also stability and stamina. He was in no condition for any of this, but damned if he was going to stick around and – and _fight_ Rex! 

He strafed a little as he ran, keeping an eye on pursuit even as he was trying to track matters in the Force. He could see as one of the slaves didn’t move fast enough, caught between the charging Rex and fleeing Obi-Wan. The captain didn’t hesitate, just lowered his shoulder and rammed into the hapless artisan, bulldozing them out of his way. The slender Togruta flailed back with a cry, slamming into the wall and falling silent even as their Force presence flickered out. 

Gods. Well. So much for the hope that Rex was at all in his right mind. Suddenly, that meant Obi-Wan wasn’t just running for his life, but also to lead Rex away from the others and potential accidents. 

There was a temporary grate erected to shut down the corridor, with two Zygerrians standing guard. By the time they registered that Obi-Wan was charging at them, he was mentally centered enough to Force shove them and the grate hard as he could. He was barely two meters from them as the slavers smashed back into the metal, which buckled with a teeth-grating screech. 

He tucked into a roll, snagging one of the electrostaffs and using it to assist his vault to his feet. He resettled his grip with a twirl of the weapon, wishing the damn thing came with an obvious off button. He didn’t want to injure Rex, he just wanted to keep him from returning the favor! 

They pelted further into the mine, Obi-Wan trusting in the Force to leap over obstacles and stray rocks while Rex kept close enough that he could rely on following Obi-Wan’s lead. The only consistent light was the flickering purple-blue charge to the ends of his electrostaff. It threw out strange shadows and highlights, reminding him unsettlingly of the nightmare that was Umbara, and how the clones had had to chase down Pong Krell.

They could have killed him, if they hadn’t been so set on bringing him in to justice – if _Rex_ hadn’t been so set on taking him alive if possible. And now here the Captain was, unhesitating in his attempt to kill Obi-Wan.

Perhaps some subtlety was called for. 

They entered one of the larger junction caves, and Obi-Wan used the staff to literally vault forward. He spun round enough so that while in the air he tried the Jedi Mind Trick, murmuring just loud enough to be audible, “I am not the traitor you are looking for.”

It was a gamble. The clones were hardly weak-willed, but they had been raised in an environment with strict hierarchy and attention to rank. Hells, given that odd chant about good soldiers, perhaps it would have a useful effect.

Mostly, he just needed Rex to _stop_ long enough to regroup, because this plan was now officially blown to hell and back.

Of course, that meant the Zygerrians stormed into the junction between Obi-Wan and Rex in the moment where the Captain wavered, perhaps affected by the mind trick, or perhaps just regrouping for a new attack. They brought blasters along with more staves, and Obi-Wan could see at least one of the handheld devices to activate their collars. 

That wouldn’t do. Quick use of the Force meant his came off, and Rex’s went flying from his throat to wrap around a Zygerrian’s. It was...perhaps _excessively_ tight, but given everything else, Obi-Wan felt no guilt over it. 

There was plenty of worry anyways, because the Force use caught Captain Rex’s attention again. He didn’t seem to care about the near two dozen angry Zygerrians between them; they were just obstacles to mow through. 

He did so with chilling efficiency. Obi-Wan had fought beside the clones for three years now, and to a man they were terrifying and competent. He’d sparred with plenty, and Cody enjoyed tossing both shinies and ARCs at his General to make sure everyone stayed on their toes. 

Rex was one of the best, with a relentless edge to him now that reminded Obi-Wan of sparring against Alpha 17 back in the early days – except Alpha 17 hadn’t _actually_ been trying to kill him. Whatever was affecting Rex wasn’t making him a mindless killer, it was making him single-minded in his desire to end Obi-Wan. 

The Zygerrians had understandably focused upon the Jedi in the room, especially once he’d removed the collars. That meant Rex had more opportunity than he would have needed even under normal circumstances to lunge in, break several limbs to gain two blasters, and execute almost half the patrol in the time it took Obi-Wan to dodge a shower of blaster bolts and Force-shove three slavers into a wall. 

The remaining slavers made the fatal error of trying to split their attention. There wasn’t nearly enough time for them to regroup before there was only one left alive, caught in a chokehold even as Rex continued to advance on Obi-Wan. 

Well. He _had_ hoped for another opportunity. It was harder to focus than it had been earlier, the fresh imprint of death now threading through the pain/fear/suffering in the mine. “At ease, Captain.” 

For a desperate moment, Rex slowed, the slaver in his hold struggling but unable to do more than weakly claw at the arm choking off his air. Rex’s eyes glazed, a baffled look flitting across the terrifying expression somehow right between blank and furious.

He staggered, dropping the guard, and for a moment, Obi-Wan hoped. “I am not your enemy,” he murmured with another handwave, only to yelp and dodge back as Rex grabbed the dead Zygerrian at his feet to hurl the corpse at him.

By the time he’d regained his balance, Rex was finally upon him. Obi-Wan still had the staff, but he didn’t want to use the charged ends. Meanwhile Rex was doing a damned admirable job trying to bludgeon him to death with a blaster-rifle, which is not the way he’d ever thought he might go out.

They traded blows until he miscalculated, dodging what he’d thought was a punch but instead was the full weight of Rex’s heavy armguard smashing against his shoulder. That was followed up by another punch to the torso, sharp and vicious with a _snap_ that was probably a rib breaking.

It was only the Force that kept him upright as he turned and ran. He made it only a few meters before the Force buzzed with incoming danger. He intentionally fell flat, but a blaster bolt skimmed along his shoulder anyways. 

Either Rex had paused long enough to grab a new weapon, or he’d held that shot in reserve. Wonderful. 

Whichever it was, that must have been a last ammo charge because there was plenty of time for another while he staggered back to his feet, gasping for breath and struggling not to scream at the throbbing from his ribs. Leaning on the electrostaff and tapping further into the Force kept him moving, deeper into the mines.

The charged ends of the staff provided the only light as the tunnels got smaller and rougher, perhaps now natural faults in the earth instead of slave-carved. There was the relentless beat of Rex chasing after him, then faintly off in the distance came the familiar crackle of a public announcement com. 

“This is your one and only warning, Jedi! Return to the annex peacefully and your cellmates will live at least a while longer. If you do not, then we will blow the mine entrances and everyone within will die as the mine comes down.”

A bitter laugh sputtered out of him. As if he could make it back before they carried out a ridiculous threat. Lose the profit of how many slaves, all for one troublesome Jedi? Absurd. He kept moving, down further and further, and he had to wonder just how slow they thought a Jedi would move. 

Obi-Wan was honestly not expecting the sudden distant rumble of explosives. That was – they had no _reason_ to– 

The shockwave of the explosion slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and further down the corridor. Somehow he managed to not blackout entirely from the impact with the ground, but he was still stunned for a bit. 

It was long enough for Rex to emerge from the dust cloud and rubble, grab the staff that Obi-Wan had finally dropped, and try to smash his skull in. He was aware enough – and listening to the warnings in the Force enough – to roll away, but his concentration was far too scrambled to do much more than that. He managed to dodge a few more blows, then braced himself for what was bound to be hell on his already screaming ribs. 

Rex swung again, only this time Obi-Wan stepped into the blow, grabbing the haft and spinning it into a sharper arc than the clone had intended. Rex tried to retreat from the redirection, but a small shove with the Force meant that the charged end slammed into his leg. There was the crack of bone and the crackle of electrical discharge underneath a short scream, then the captain’s mind sank into true unconsciousness.

That turned out to be the last for the electrostaff, which gave one more sputter before it extinguished with a faint whine, leaving them both in complete darkness. 

* * *

Obi-Wan had to sit down for awhile just to do more than breathe. That had been...unpleasant. Somehow, it’d exceeded all else so far this week in sheer ugliness. Torture, slavery – he’d done all that before, though the Zygerrians had a particular flair for it. 

Having a trusted friend turn on him? Not so common an event. He was just thankful that whatever the Zygerrians had done hadn’t worked as they’d intended. 

The possibility that it had come from someone else opened up too many ugly avenues that he set it aside for later, when he could deal with a headache without the broken rib – ribs? – and privation. 

The ribs were the first thing he tended to, doing his best to not pass out during a bit of Force manipulation and what little healing he could manage, before trying to bind the whole mess with the shreds of his undertunic. 

It said unfortunate things about his life choices that when Obi-Wan could finally muster up further energy, he managed a halfway decent splint for Captain Rex even in the dark. It required more use of the Force than he’d liked, to break the electrostaff and align bones as best he could, but in the end it was serviceable. As a bonus, it would keep the captain from moving quickly if he was still... _delusional_. 

Thankfully, when Captain Rex began to stir, his mind felt normal, if confused. Obi-Wan could catch the slight change to his breathing, then a pause. 

“Am I blind, or is it just that dark?” Rex asked, voice hoarse from all the dust raised in the explosion.

Obi-Wan tried not to wince as he helped him sit up. “Darkness. I’m afraid we have most of the mine proper collapsed behind us.”

There was interesting nuance to the silence. “How’d you pull that one off?”

“To be honest, it was much more your doing. What do you remember?”

Another hesitation, then Captain Rex was all business. “The – the punishment detail. Then it’s all hazy. Hard to tell what was real, what was a nightmare. I certainly feel like there was a fight, but I don’t know who, or why I don’t remember it. I think we were running? You were saying something to me, but I – I don’t know _what_.”

Oh that boded well. “...does the phrase ‘good soldiers follow orders’ mean anything to you?” 

“No, sir. Not something our trainers said, though they did teach the concept. Why?”

“You were saying it. Somewhat before you were attacking me.”

“... _what_?” Under other circumstances, the outraged indignation would have been amusing.

“I was somewhat taken aback as well. Never fear, you fought with exceptional skill.”

“Not the point!” Rex snapped. It was almost amusing, how he could hear the metaphorical eye-roll. “If I’m blacking out and attacking a superior officer that’s several more problems than we need! Sir, if I was in my right mind I wouldn’t–”

“I know, Captain. _I know_. Something was affecting you, but whatever it is has worn off.”

“General, if I’m any danger to you then–”

“Then we shall deal with it _if_ it arises.” He could readily imagine the look he got for that. “Besides, I’ve taken precautions.” The splint counted as such, from a certain perspective. From the other perspectives – honestly, he could not handle the notion of just leaving Rex there, trapped alone in darkness. They’d deal with what problems might come.

“So!” Obi-Wan declared, trying to maintain the droll tone. “I’m fairly certain I heard something dripping in that direction–” He pointed, for all that it was moot. “– and there’s no point waiting around for the Zygerrians to find us.” Not that it was likely they’d try. “Let’s go find some water.”

Rex accepted assistance to his feet, but he sounded quite dubious as he asked, “You can tell where you’re going?” 

“More of an educated guess. When I was a padawan, one of my Master’s friends lost her sight.” Strange, how easy the euphemism came for those painful, turbulent events. “She used the Force to compensate, and I learned a great deal from her.” Duty above all. Sacrifice. How ill luck could crush so many, how Attachment could bring good Masters low.

How sometimes, Attachment with reason was all that could save someone from themselves. 

He shook the memory off as Rex stumbled, and Obi-Wan caught his arm. “Everything all right?” 

“I thought...I saw something?” It sounded like Rex shook his head, confusion in every syllable.

“The human mind doesn’t do well in utter darkness. It often interprets things as sight, so be prepared for hallucinations.”

“You sound pretty comfortable with this,” Rex said, dry even as curiosity flared in his presence.

“I haven’t been unconscious the way you have, and I have the Force.”

“That keeps you from hallucinating?” He sounded rightly skeptical. Obi-Wan felt free to grin.

“No, it helps me direct the hallucinations so that I think I see my surroundings. Think of it as indirect echolocation.”

“So while I’ve been unconscious, you’ve been hallucinating you’re a bat. Good to know.”

It was strange, but good to laugh. He tried to hold that feeling close as they continued to wander for who knew how long. The tunnel’s floor was too uneven for it to be the mine proper any longer, but what kind of cave system it might be was beyond him. It felt like a painful forever before the distant drips became an actual trickle of water, which they followed to a seam in the rock. They managed to drink enough cold, brackish water that it almost quenched his thirst, then they carefully settled themselves next to it, trying to regather some strength. Obi-Wan could only hope that it was actually restful for Rex. As if he heard the thought, Rex sighed. “You’d do better to strike out alone,” he said, voice soft and matter of fact.

Obi-Wan glared in his direction, hoping the expression communicated. “Absolutely not.”

“You’d make better time, and in theory you could find a way out and send help.”

If he managed to escape. If Rex survived until – if – he could return. The realities, the _impossibilities_ sat between them for a few beats too long to be anything other than consideration.

Then Obi-Wan scoffed, reaching out to grasp Rex’s shoulder, trusting in the Force to get it right. “Nonsense,” he said, voice as light as if they were discussing who would walk through a door first. “Besides, Anakin would never forgive me.” He allowed himself a breath, then made himself declare the truth. “Neither would I, to be honest.”

He could hear Rex shifting, but he couldn’t tell how. The moment stretched on, until Rex let out a soft huff of something akin to laughter. “You know, I can pick out one of the 501st at a glance. ID familiar brothers over the com just by voice. We can spot a Jedi just by the way they move. But I’m not used to having this few cues.” 

“Of?” he asked, genuinely curious and more than a little confused.

Rex’s hand alighted on Obi-Wan’s – the one he’d left on Rex’s shoulder – then skimmed up his arm. It was light enough to make him shiver, solid enough that it wasn’t a caress, and when it settled upon the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck Rex leaned in close. He was near enough that their cheeks brushed, and the way Rex’s voice ghosted across his ear left him breathless. 

“Of how you look at me. If there’s actually something to the way we interact, if it’s as familiar as I think or if you’re just being kind. If it’s mutual attraction or not.” There was a pause, just long enough for Rex’s words to send another shiver through him. “Or is that just me, sir?”

The title should have been a reminder. It should have been all the reason in the world to take the out Rex was kindly leaving him. He could ignore all the signals that were being broadcast loud and clear, and they could pretend this had never happened. He was quite sure that the Captain was more than professional enough to not let it interfere with his responsibilities, and Obi-Wan had long experience doing the same. 

Instead, of all the ridiculous things, it left him hard.

He tried to remind himself this was hardly the time or place, but it wasn’t like either would ever exist. He tried to remind himself of the chain of command and Detachment, even as it was so easy to just tilt his head and turn. He tried to remind himself that _he should not_ , but instead he closed that last little distance for a kiss.

It was light at first, just a brush of lips and in its own way offering Rex a graceful retreat as well. Instead, Rex groaned and slid his hand up into Obi-Wan’s hair, tugging in a way that left him making similarly pleased noises. It was nice to focus on that, along with the play of Rex’s lips and tongue instead of all the aches and injuries they’d managed to acquire. In the absolute darkness, it was so _easy_ to remember the many times they’d skirted the lines of rank and familiarity. Casual touches that did not exist for others, a bit too much warmth over the com, silly moments of puffery like Rex’s posturing at the Citadel’s LZ.

Yes, he wanted, had wanted for a long time, and he’d been able to feel both Rex’s interest and his quiet self-denial.

They finally pulled apart, though still close enough that he’d hardly need to move forward to bump noses. He wanted to ask why now, what possible reason Rex would have to instigate matters when they were beaten halfway to a bloody pulp, but – 

He knew. 

He could even admit to himself that he didn’t think either of them were going to make it out alive. 

He could not, _would not_ admit such to another, particularly if it might influence their behavior for the worse. With nothing else he could say, Obi-Wan went for the wittiest quip he could find, knowing it was feeble at best. 

“This is a spectacularly poor use of limited resources.”

“Yeah,” Rex acknowledged. “You really think it lowers our chances of getting out alive?”

“It certainly doesn’t improve them,” he felt obligated to point out.

There was an odd silence before Rex spoke again, his voice now almost soft enough to miss. “No, but it’d be nice to have one good moment in all of this.” 

“...Yes, well.” He had to clear his throat. “With luck, the mission won’t last much longer, and we’re due some downtime afterwards.”

“I didn’t...I didn’t mean just the mission.”

“The war?” Obi-Wan dared ask, not sure what he could mean.

Rex let out a huff of what might be amusement, tilting enough to rest their foreheads together. “That’s what we were made for. What else is there?”

He wished he had some kind of answer for that. He hated that he did not. So Obi-Wan kissed Rex once more, deep and hopefully not too desperate.

When they separated again, Obi-Wan tried to keep his voice steady and light. “Perhaps a bargain, then. We get out of this, then once we’re safe – how about we see then, Captain?”

He thought he could feel Rex’s grin, though he couldn’t help but wonder if it was bittersweet along with the typical wryness. Then the Captain nodded as he pulled away. “You’ve got a bargain, General.”

* * *

It felt like hours of wandering around in the darkness, trusting the Force and trying to feel his way to some kind of exit. It was probably less than a day before a distant, rhythmic rumbling started. It got louder and louder, until ahead of them there was what seemed to be an explosion of light. 

When the dust cleared, Obi-Wan and Rex were squinting at some kind of drilling machine, Anakin hopping down from the driver’s cab, Ahsoka at his heels. 

It was surprisingly hard not to collapse in relief, so instead he focused on teasing Anakin as they were hustled out of the cave network and eventually onto the _Resolute_. Kix hounded them there, conferencing with Zed via holo before tossing both him and Rex into bacta tanks. 

Even through the soothing distance of some very good drugs, it hurt to see the sheer amount of injuries to Rex, from the countless bruises to the electrical burns around his upper back and throat. The knowledge that he had put the vast majority of them there chased him into unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those curious about "Rex’s posturing at the Citadel’s LZ", I present to you [a gifset](https://norcumi.tumblr.com/post/115723124934/norcumi-amemait-may-i-say-that-rexs), particularly the 5th image.
> 
> For those curious about cave blindness, that was influenced some by a fascinating [tumblr post](https://norcumi.tumblr.com/post/174261007889/the-tabularium-nikniknikin-blackbearmagic).


	3. Coming to Light

It was no surprise that the Council wanted a full report, in person, on the whole sordid debacle. Anakin had been the one to make the call on returning to Coruscant while Obi-Wan was still in bacta – valid, given how long it had been since either the 212th or the 501st had gotten any kind of a break; ridiculous in light of how recently Anakin and Senator Amidala had been in the same sector; yet reassuring given the kind of toll the mission had taken on Anakin. 

He’d given his damned report – not that a word of it hadn’t appeared in his written analysis – listened to the platitudes from the Council, and then serenely swanned off to his quarters to sulk. 

Well. Perhaps not literally. It was just easier to call it that than try to pinpoint the sensation of edginess, how he wanted to jump out of his skin when he wasn’t _doing_ something; how not having the clear goals of the war left him bereft and adrift. 

* * *

There was always more paperwork, and red tape to plow through. Obi-Wan attempted to lose himself in that minutia, trying to work through the next two days to make sure the troops got the well-deserved down-time they needed. 

...and that he had to be stuck not falling asleep in the dark silence of his rooms as little as possible. 

That third day was the first that the troops had actual leave. Obi-Wan tried not to let his thoughts linger on bargains made in the dark, because there were a multitude of reasons that could not be binding. Nor should it be, given the obvious complications. 

Nonetheless, he found himself squelching an absurd hope several times that day, until the door chimed that afternoon. It was a relief to open the door and find Captain Rex there, though the dress gray uniform was a surprise. Though some of the surprise was how very well it showed of his frame, even as the man was blatantly uncomfortable in it. Odd, how he seemed out of uniform when he wasn’t in the armor.

“Captain.” It was meant to be neutral, presuming nothing, but he wasn’t sure how it sounded in truth.

“General. I was hoping we might have a word?” Rex sounded...uncertain. Not nervous, but like he was holding some internal debate.

“Of course. Come in, please.”

He was...more aware than he should be, of how Rex looked. Not just the way the uniform fit him, not just the way the lower neck revealed the faint jagged lines of healed electrical scars – also the nearness of him, the precise way he moved and remained out of Obi-Wan’s personal space.

As soon as the door closed, Rex removed the regulation cap. Obi-Wan blinked, moving forward without intending to, his hand rising towards the suture scar on Rex’s right temple. “Did I miss something blindingly obvious among your injuries?”

Rex reached up as if to catch his hand, but Obi-Wan stopped well before getting to the scar, leaving them both standing there, hands not quite touching. They stayed there for an electric moment, then Obi-Wan pulled back, clearing his throat. Rex did the same, flushing a bit before trying – failing – to casually run the hand over his head.

“No, Kix did a thorough scan and found something he thinks might be related to why I was...acting oddly. He’s still not sure if it’s some kind of tumor, but he’s got several brothers helping him figure out what it is.”

That was somehow both a relief and horrifying, particularly given the casual way Captain Rex talked about what sounded like it might be a _brain tumor_. Obi-Wan tried to shake it off, because that was not the reason they were there. “What is it you’d like to talk about?” he tried, not quite sounding normal as he gestured towards the old couch that was the most reliable seating in his quarters.

Rex sat, then took a deep breath. “I – I wasn’t sure if you’d want to address the conversation we had, down in the tunnels.”

Oh good. He wasn’t the only one dancing around the topic. Since one of them had to take the plunge, he elected to be it. “The conversation, or the bargain?”

Rex didn’t blush again, but he couldn’t quite make eye contact. “…I wouldn’t want to presume anything. Or pressure for anything.”

If he got a paycheck, Obi-Wan would have wagered it all that Rex’s concern was far more the former than the latter. Regardless, in his head he’d already committed to a course of action. All he had to do was follow through.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, it’d be easier. “You’re not,” Obi-Wan declared, before putting a hand on Rex’s shoulder, leaning in cheek to cheek the same way they had in the tunnels. “And it has never been just you, Rex. Of course it’s been mutual.” That answer to his question had been sitting awhile, waiting. It felt strange to let it settle into his quarters as if holding its breath for a resolution.

Then Rex turned his head with just a quirk of a smile and kissed him, as slow and desperate as they had before. There was something strange but fascinating to the fact that now they could see what they hadn’t been able to before. Obi-Wan could track movements, the way that Rex was the type to kiss with his eyes mostly closed. He could see the shivers as his fingertips trailed up to cup Rex’s face, gently sliding a thumb along that new incision scar that quietly worried him. He could savor the expression as he dipped down, scattering kisses along his jaw before nuzzling along his throat, and then he could leave more kisses along the fine tracery of lightning scars around Rex’s neck where the collar had been.

It was a genuine delight to strip that man out of his uniform, removing the unfamiliar getup one slow bit by bit until the half-dressed Rex stood up with a growl and shed the rest in an astonishingly short amount of time.

It was such a lovely view, too. Even now, on leave and in what had to be one of the safest places in the Republic, Rex stood with feet braced and body balanced for aggressive or defensive maneuvers. He was all whipcord strength, seemingly unconscious of both scars and raging hard-on.

Seemingly, but not in reality. Rex lifted his chin, color flooding his cheeks as he met Obi-Wan’s eyes. “If I have to feel naked because officers don’t wear their armor to the temple, then I might as well actually _be_ naked,” he said, his words right on the line between explanation and defensive challenge.

He held up his hands. “I am not objecting at all, but – how far _are_ we going?”

Force help him, Rex smirked. “Tell me when to stop,” he challenged.

Obi-Wan stood. Mussed clothing and cheating with the Force or no, it still took him longer to strip than it had Rex, but that only seemed to heighten the delightful tension in the room. He kicked his pants aside to take a step closer, then he gave his slyest little grin. So worth it, watching Rex’s cock twitch as the man swallowed, eyes a little wide even as he tried not to stare. “How about you tell me when to stop?” Obi-Wan purred, moving into Rex’s personal space. He started with another deep kiss, pressing close, skin to warm skin.

Rex moaned into Obi-Wan’s mouth, hands going to his waist and pulling them even closer. Obi-Wan let his hands wander down, finally let his fingers trace over muscles and scars like he’d imagined far more often than he should have ever indulged.

Reality was...rather amazing. They kissed each other breathless, then Obi-Wan licked and nipped his way down to Rex’s neck. He couldn’t have explained it even if he tried, how there was guilt yet not in the kisses he trailed there, along scars he was responsible for. Yet it wasn’t any more than anything else he’d done for the war. For the Order. It wasn’t about absolution; the only forgiveness he could find would be forgiving himself, and he knew that.

He could admit that he’d done this, was responsible for these scars – just as he was able to do something good, bring pleasure not just suffering. On top of that, this was someone he wanted, and that was returned: impossible, all of it.

Yet it was real, and happening.

Somehow they stumbled into the bedroom without falling over, not that Obi-Wan was sure he’d complain if they had. By the time they fell onto the bed, the door had automatically closed, leaving them nose to nose lit only by the dim reading light in the headboard. Rex glanced at it, then back at Obi-Wan. “Fell asleep reading?” he asked, sounding as if he knew the answer already.

“The darkness is...difficult, after all that mess.”

He nodded, as if that made total sense instead of being a youngling’s problem. Fear of the dark, indeed. Then Rex smiled, that lovely crooked grin which promised trouble. “Am I the only one who’s wondered how things might have gone if it hadn’t been a spectacularly poor use of limited resources?”

He laughed in spite of himself, then twisted enough to pull the bottle of lube from where he’d left it on the sidetable. “Hardly. Still not very wise, though.”

Rex laughed, and kissed him sweet and deep. “Don’t worry, General. I’ve got you,” he said, reaching over and palming off the light, leaving the windowless room fully dark.

They fumbled together, awkwardness sliding into eagerness as they learned where each other was and how they were moving. Fingertips were gentle and slow as they trailed across faces, clutching at shoulders or hips then sliding further along to trace the shape before them.

They sped up some as rutting against each other became less satisfying and more needy, both of them looking for _more_. Hands on cocks and lube applied liberally, feeling and exploring, sliding together to tease and coax.

In the Force, Rex was a beacon of emotions: quiet joy and enthusiastic exuberance, old wounds and still depths suffused with purpose. There was so much affection, desire, but also a watchful wariness that was slowly being drowned out in pleasure. Obi-Wan could only imagine what it was like for him: nothing to see but what the mind conjured up from scent and sound and the feel of what was going on.

Rex certainly moved like he knew what was going on. Moving in close to capture breathless moans in kisses. Finding that tender spot past the jaw below the ear and nibbling _just so_ in a way that left Obi-Wan whimpering. Shifting to allow him better access to ease Rex open, even while fisting the sheets taut underneath them with curses in more languages than Obi-Wan expected.

The swearing slid into deep-throated groans when Obi-Wan was finally balls-deep inside him. He’d imagined but never heard Rex’s voice drop to that register, and it left him aching even as he curled around him. Obi-Wan nuzzled against Rex’s neck when the brush of beard against that lovely expanse of muscle earned a renewed bout of cursing, trying not to chuckle as he rocked his hips enough to tease further.

This close, he could feel the ridges of scar tissue under his cheek; even Force healing and bacta could only do so much, especially when they’d been stuck in a slave pen before running through the depths of a mine. Obi-Wan tried to keep in contact with them even as he and Rex shifted to get a better angle, and he moved a hand from Rex’s hip to pull him closer, stoke his cock with each thrust.

He was responsible for those scars. From the very beginning of concocting the Kiros op, to not being fast or effective enough on Kadavo, to the act of wielding the whip. He wished he could somehow take those marks himself, bear them upon his own skin instead of Rex’s.

Impossible.

So instead he did what he could to share pleasure instead, even allowing himself to be selfish and enjoy sex because he was well aware that both of them very much preferred partners who were enthusiastically engaged.

Such a ridiculous justification of Attachment, but nonetheless. It meant he reveled in the feel of thrusting deep, each kiss and touch until Rex came, pumping out over Obi-Wan’s hand as he kept stroking. It took so much effort to keep the tempo as his own hips stuttered, orgasm pulsing through them and echoing in the Force like a heartbeat.

* * *

They showered together afterwards, managing to fit two people in a ‘fresher that was never meant for more than one. They were deeply in each other’s personal space, avoiding being clobbered by elbows or shoved out of the water by keeping their movements slow and intimate.

He wasn’t sure where the spare towel was, so they dried each other before ending up on the couch rather than test what kind of a mess his bedsheets had to be. They tangled together there, still naked and with the occasional tired caress.

“Well, Captain?” Obi-Wan finally asked, not sure if his tone was managing teasing or overly formal. “Do you have a verdict?” He got a puzzled look. “Did you find at least one good moment in all of this?”

Bafflement melted into a smirk, and Rex cupped his cheek. “A lot more than one, General.”

He was smiling like an idiot through another long kiss. “Glad to hear it.”

Rex shifted a little, to get a better view of him. “Did you?”

It was so _easy_ to nestle closer. “Too many to count.”


End file.
